


Maybe I'm a bad, bad, bad, bad person (well, baby, I know)

by insomniabug



Series: From Mystic Falls with Love [7]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: au priest/nun fic, sexy praying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomniabug/pseuds/insomniabug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father Klaus gets a surprise confession</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe I'm a bad, bad, bad, bad person (well, baby, I know)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a tumblr post
> 
> title: "Love Love Love" by Of Monsters and Men

“Bless me Father for I have sinned.  It’s been ten hours since my last confession.”  

 

> (yes, sexy praying)  
>  inspired by this post ([x](http://mikaelsonfire.tumblr.com/post/42668039903))

The voice belongs to a young female, sounding almost as if belonging to a child.  Father Klaus is slightly disappointed in having to hear the sins of such a pure soul.  The sins of children are always so innocent and, although sometimes amusing, are incredibly boring.  Making the sign of the cross, Father Klaus asks God for forgiveness for such wickedness.  From childhood he’s known there was a darkness within him — a corruption of the soul which caused his father to give him to the Church.  

 

“And what are your sins?” He responds mechanically, thankful this will be his last confession for the evening.

 

“Lechery.  I’ve been having impure thoughts.” The timid voice suddenly becomes deeper, heavily laden with lust, and he now realizes it is no child behind the curtain.

 

“And have you… _acted_  on these impure thoughts?” Father Klaus pulls at his clerical collar, feeling as if he’s suddenly having trouble breathing.  He knows exactly who’s confession he is listening to.  His mouth begins to water, whether in disquiet or longing he does not know.

 

“Not yet, but I’m about to.” A pale hand reaches past the curtain, almost glowing inside the ever enclosing space, and rests on his knee.

 

“ _Sister Caroline_ , you push too far.”  It’s not an earnest rejection; no, he could never reject  _her,_ but it made him feel better afterwards when he begged God for forgiveness.  Another act of begging appears in his mind and he crosses himself again.  (He fears the motion is beginning to feel sacrilegious.) 

 

A chuckle comes from behind the curtain. “Funny, that’s what I told you ten hours ago in the sacristy, when  _your_  mouth was in a most  _unholy_  place.”  

 

The curtain is pushed aside, the swift rush of cloth loud in his ears, and a vision of loveliness kneels before him.  Her habit removed, golden hair tumbling down her shoulders in large ringlets, is not what causes his heart to begin pounding fiercely within his chest.  No, it’s the opening of her robes; the revealing red lingerie she is wearing beneath them; the delicious curve of her breast just within his reach that makes him forget his own name.

 

The pain of his fingernails piercing his palms is a thankful distraction as her hands resume their place on his lap and begin to creep downward, lifting the hem of his robes off the floor.  The cloth is now bunched around his waist, exposing the top of his pants and a devilish smile appears on her face.  “And this is my penance for having allowed such filthy behavior to go on without stopping it.”  

 

He closes his eyes in defeat as her fingers, skilled in so many holy uses, begins to unzip his pants.  Not doing anything to stop her, it was moments like these where he believed his father might have been right about his depraved nature.  But honestly, once he had met  _her_  it would forever be a losing battle, for she had a much stronger hold on his soul than Jesus, Mary and all the heavenly Saints ever did.   

 

“Sister Caroline—” She places a hand over his mouth, stopping the words from escaping.

 

"I’m not your sister.   _That_  would be a whole different kind of sin.”  He gasps against her damp palm as she begins to stroke him.  “And I think we have more than enough of those to deal with.”


End file.
